A Promise Kept
by Alice-in-french
Summary: "Please, Arthur, do not make me promises. My heart will not be able to bear it when they are broken." The last time Gwen bowed to Arthur, she rose as his equal.


Arthur strolled thoughtfully through the corridors of the castle. The only sounds that reached his ears were the morning doves' songs, but the prince knew he was not the only person awake. Many of the castle's servants were up and preparing for the day and the lower town, certainly, would already be bustling and busy.

Rarely did the morning find itself graced with the presence of the crown prince, but the young man found the time perfect for thinking. The quiet was peaceful and calming, and he had never once been interrupted as the bulk of the castle's residents were still asleep in their beds. This morning he had begun his walk with the intention of planning next week's training for his knights. They were to begin some newer and harder routines, and Arthur still had some details to iron out. However, his thoughts continually strayed from training to another object of focus. When Arthur found he could not control his thoughts to keep to knights and practice, he finally gave up. This new subject matter was much more appealing. After all, what is steel and chainmail to soft curls and warm brown eyes? The clash of swords could never hope to compare to the sweet lilt of his Guinevere's voice.

Only moments later, when Arthur turned the corner to head back to his chambers, he spied the woman who had haunted his dreams these last months.

Gwen was paused at the end of the hall, leaning on the sill of an open window, drinking in the fresh morning air. A full basket sat on the floor beside her, Arthur assumed she had been taking fresh laundry to Morgana's rooms. The maid's eyes were closed as the soft breeze played with a stray curl and the sun warmed her tanned cheeks.

Bathed in the morning sunlight, Gwen looked like an angel in Arthur's eyes. He was loathe to break the spell he found himself under, but his desperation to have a moment alone with her – an occasion rarer now than ever before – was far greater.

He walked toward her and quietly cleared his throat before calling, "Guinevere."

She jumped in surprise and when she saw who beckoned her she quickly curtsied. "Sire."

This was, of course, not the first time she had deferred to him as such, yet Arthur suddenly found he hated that she still thought she must perform such actions in his presence. He loved this woman more than anything or anyone, why should she, of all people, bow to him?

"Guinevere, please, do not bow to me. Especially not when we are alone."

"It is protocol, sir."

"Arthur, Guinevere, Arthur," he urged.

He watched as her eyes shifted to the side at his words, and action Arthur had come to know meant she was wrestling with her conscious. They played a dangerous game, and he knew she battled with each encounter they had. Should she lower her guard and enjoy this time alone, allow him to love her they way they both wanted? Or should she keep the walls around her heart in place, knowing that even though it would hurt now, she would be safe from heartache later? He breathed an inner sigh of relief when she looked at him once more, her eyes and features softened.

"If you insist, Arthur," she teased.

He smiled and gently touched her face, tucking a curl behind her ear. "There is my Guinevere. Tell me, how are you this morning?"

"Much better now, actually." She returned his smile.

"Oh? And why would that be?"

"Well," she glanced up at him through dark eyelashes, "it certainly has nothing to do with the handsome prince who has sought me out."

"I sought you out, did I?"

"Didn't you?" Her smile brightened arrogantly as her face turned up to face him more fully.

His only answer was to lean down and capture her grinning lips in a kiss. "Perhaps I did," he murmured, and kissed her again.

He pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against hers. "I have missed you, Guinevere."

"And I you." She whispered against his lips.

In the weeks since Uther has discovered their secret meeting in the forest, time alone had become impossible.

"We should not linger hear, Arthur. The castle will be waking soon." Arthur could hear in the tone of voice that she was returning to reality, but he was not ready. He stalled her by kissing her again, more fervently this time.

"I have chores to do," she tried to protest.

He kissed her again.

"You will be missed."

Another kiss.

"Arthur-"

"Let the castle wait, Guinevere. I do not know when I will be able to speak with you again, kiss you again. Do not deny a thirsty man water."

There was pain in her eyes as she answered. "I know, Arthur, I know. I am just as thirsty for you. But if we are found, your Father will be sure we never see each other ever again. Better to have short moments than none at all."

"You are right, as always," he sighed angrily. "If only my father-!"

"Shh…I know, I know. But all that matters is that we know of our love."

"And Merlin."

"And Merlin." She laughed.

A noise from the next hallway forced them to part, putting an acceptable distance between them for prince and servant. As a serving boy turned into their hallway and passed by the pair, Gwen curtsied to Arthur, making it look as if she too had just come upon the prince.

When the boy turned the corner, Arthur took her by the hand and once more admonished her, "Guinevere, no. I never want to see you bow to me again."

"I am a handmaiden, Arthur, you are the Prince. You'd best get used to it."

Arthur winced at her tone; the walls were back in place. Well, fine, if she refused to believe in hope, he refused to believe there wasn't hope.

"One day, one day, Guinevere, you will no longer need to bow before anyone. One day, I will be king, and you will be my queen."

"Please, Arthur, do not make me promises. My heart will not be able to bear it when they are broken."

"Every promise I make to you I will keep. I swear it to you. One day."

"But not today," she answered sadly. "I must go. Morgana will be waking soon. Good-bye, Arthur." She curtsied out of habit, then turned and walked briskly away.

_One day, _Arthur thought as he watched her retreating back. _One day._

Gwen took a deep breath. This was it. Today was the day. She could hardly believe it. All the promises Arthur had made her so many years ago were finally coming true. Today, she would no longer be known as Gwen, handmaiden of Camelot. Instead, she would be called Guinevere, Queen of Camelot. The grand doors of the throne room opened, and she regally began her walk down the aisle. She smiled to herself that she realized that the last time she had done this, it meant another change in name. The last walk of this nature had resulted in her becoming Guinevere Pendragon, wife of Arthur. How wonderfully odd, she thought. As she continued toward the front of the room, she nodded at each of the knights that lined the aisle: Sir Leon, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, and finally her brother, Elyan. She then spotted Gaius and Merlin. Gwen shared a conspiratorial smile with the warlock. He, like Arthur, had constantly assured that this day would come. Well, it had. And she finally believed it. Her gaze returned to the front and she walked the short remaining yards to Arthur, her king and husband. Again, she smiled at the delight of it all.

As he once promised her in the quiet still of a morning in a castle hallway, Gwen bowed to Arthur for the last time. And when she rose, she rose as his equal, as his queen.

"I crown you Guinevere, Queen of Camelot."


End file.
